Man Down
by sandybeliever
Summary: One of the guys is down. Will they find him in time?


**Man Down**

Roy opened his eyes. Fireworks? Fourth of July? No. Embers. Embers rained down on him. Reality started to seep back into his brain. And the pain came with it. His back muscles screamed at him. He imagined a bruise in the shape of his air tank already forming.

_Okay, don't panic. You're alive. And the fact that you saw the embers from when that beam fell on you, means you didn't lose consciousness…much. Did you?_

Roy looked around and tried to get his bearings but his mask was cracked, the spider web lines criss-crossing his vision. He tensed. Did he lose his air supply? He took in a breath to test it, then winced.

_You still have air but-note to self, don't breathe too deep. It hurts like hell. Cracked rib? _

He closed his eyes to take stock of his body. He tried to move his legs until he realized that the beam that fell now lay across them. But he didn't feel pain. His heart skipped a beat.

_No pain? Spine injury? No…wait. I do feel the beam on me. Oh good._

A little pain wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Roy then moved his arms slowly. They worked just fine but his right shoulder protested.

_That's where the beam hit. I remember that. Another good sign._

Roy closed his eyes for just a moment. He knew he needed to get out of this place. Opening his eyes, he saw the fire was slowly eating its way along the walls. Dark smoke curled around the corners along the ceiling. He watched it sliding along like a large dark snake. It was mesmerizing. Beautiful, in a way.

_Okay, enough of that. Don't let the beast get you. Don't look it in the eye, DeSoto. Once it has you like that, you're a goner._

Roy closed his eyes tight against the vision and rocked his head back in forth.

_Really? "Beast?" Maybe you do have a head injury. Think. Can you get up? Can you move the beam? Where is the exit?_

Roy opened his eyes again and looked around.

_Where is my partner?_

"Johnny?" The word was just a whisper muffled by the air mask.

_Johnny? Marco? Chet? Anyone?_

Carefully Roy planted his elbows on the floor beneath him and pushed himself up. He let out a groan as his shoulder and back complained. He managed to get himself up enough to get a hand on the beam. He pushed, then pulled. Nothing budged. He fell back and cried out in pain as the air tank slammed into his bruised back.

"Shit!"

_Oops, sorry, Joanne._

In his mind, he dropped a quarter in a swear jar. Joanne threatened to start one once Chris was old enough to repeat words he heard, she never did. Although there was a proverbial swear jar that Roy used. She would flash him a disapproving look and he would fish out an imaginary quarter from a pocket and drop it into an invisible jar in his other hand. It always made her grin and saved his ass many times.

_Ha, another quarter in the jar._

He smiled but it faded as he thought of his family.

_Will I see you again? Do you know how much I love you? Did I say it before I left this morning?_

He nodded. He knew he did. He always did. Sometimes it was said through gritted teeth when he was angry but he never left without saying it to his wife and his children. A tear slid from the corner of his eye into his hair, mingling with the beads of sweat that formed there.

_It is getting too hot in here. Guys, if you are going to come. Come now. Please._

Roy listened for sounds of approaching rescuers but heard nothing above the roar of the fire. He tried to yell out but without being able to take a deep breath, not much sound escaped. He started to worry about the tank running out as he watched a piece of the ceiling being devoured by the flames and fall to the floor on the other side of the room.

_I need to make some noise. I need to tell them I am here. _

He felt around on the floor nearby for a pipe, a tool, something metal. Grimly he thought,

_But there isn't anything I can hit it against anyway._

Starting to panic, Roy forced his breathing to even out.

_Don't use up what little air you have left, DeSoto. Come on!_

He laid there for a minute, listening again.

_What I need is some sort of device. Something that I would carry – that all firefighters would carry. An alarm. Yes, that's it. It could be activated in situations like this. It would be loud. Really loud. The next Firefighter Innovation contest…I will submit my idea. Well, if I can figure out how to make one, that is._

Roy pushed himself up on his elbows again and began to desperately push at the beam holding his legs.

_If I could just lift it a bit, I could pull myself free._

He grimaced as his efforts only made the beam dig deeper into his left shin.

_Oh man, Joanne is going to have kittens when she sees me all bruised up like this._

He laid back down as he became lightheaded. The air tank was now alarming that is was low.

Roy's vision started to gray after breathing the last of the clean air. His mind started to wander.

_Yeah, an alarm. That's what we need._

Roy pushed his air mask off his face realizing he was now breathing in his own expired breath despite the atmosphere being just as hostile without the mask. Coughing heavily, Roy knew he would soon be unconscious. He again thought of his family, then his brothers at 51s. The thought of them not saving him weighed heavy on his heart. He didn't want them to feel they failed him.

_If I had that alarm, they would find me even though I was unconscious._

Roy rolled onto his side as much as he could to try to get to the thin ribbon of fresher air along the floor. He soon began to lose his battle to stay alert. In the distance he heard a loud bang then some more noise he could no longer distinguish in his oxygen-deprived state.

_I love you, Jo. I love you, Chris, Jenny. I love you…_

"Johnny?"

Roy felt the beam being lifted from his legs as an air mask was pressed against his face. He struggled to take in a deep breath but all he could do was cough roughly. There were voices nearby but to him they sounded muffled and strange. He tried again and was able to get some oxygen into his burning lungs. The gray haze lifted enough for him to be able to open his eyes. His partner smiled back at him.

"You're gonna be okay, Roy."

~ E ~

Johnny beat his hands against the squad's dashboard as they made their way back to the station after a supply run. "Oh, Rapid Roy, that stock car boy, he's the best driver in the land. He say that he learned to race a stock car by runnin' 'shine outta Alabam."

"Johnny. Johnny, please. Johnny!"

Johnny's head snapped around. "What?"

"Would you cut that out, please?"

"Why? I love that song."

"I don't drive too fast."

"Who said ya did? It is saying you are the best driver in the land."

"Well…okay."

"It's true, ya know. You are." Johnny beamed.

"Thanks," Roy said, not sure if it really was a compliment.

"I'm sure you did some driving while I was out on leave."

"I sure did. And I enjoyed it." Johnny paused and stared out the passenger side window. "But…"

Roy waited then prodded, "But what?"

Johnny looked back at his best friend. "But nothing is as good as riding alongside you like this."

"Thanks, Partner." Roy smiled.

Johnny's hands started again on the dash. "He got a tattoo on his arm that say, 'Baby.' He got another one that just say, 'Hey.' But every Sunday afternoon he is a dirt track demon in a '57 Chevrolet."

"So," Roy began and then waited for the solo to end. When he had Johnny's attention, he continued. "I wanted to tell you about this idea I had for the next innovation contest.

**The End**

**A/N:** According to the IAFF website, the organization studied line-of-duty deaths and found the inability of fire fighters to let others on the fire ground know they are in trouble and need assistance contributed to many deaths. Fire fighters need the capability to signal distress at a scene. Two-way radio was not the answer for every department. In response, the IAFF developed performance criteria for the PASS device, or Personal Alert Safety System. It emits an audible alarm signal to summon assistance. The IAFF was the driving force behind developing and introducing standards for the device to the fire service's standard issuer, the National Fire Protection Association (NFPA). In 1983, the NFPA adopted their standard, NFPA 1982: Personal Alert Safety Systems for Fire Fighters, which sets regulations on the functioning and test methods for devices. Later, PASS devices would be built into breathing equipment and would be modified so that fire fighters would not have to remove a glove to turn them on.

My thanks to Kelmin for help in finding the above information on the PASS.

Johnny is singing "Rapid Roy" by Jim Croce.


End file.
